Peachybutt Meets Long Schlong
by Cat In My Fridge
Summary: The story of Squall 'Peachybutt' Leonhart and Seifer 'Long Schlong' Almasy and their adventures in the adult movie industry. Seifer x Squall. AU. For Hyogen.


**Author's Notes**: This was requested by my virulent_enmity, Hyogen on this site, for my drabble meme on LJ. The request was, and I quote,

**Pairing:** SeiferxSquall  
**Prompt:** AU. The two are gay porn stars and are a favorite pairing among their popular audience. As they are in the middle of, or as they are getting ready for, a steamy sex scene, something goes horribly, hilariously wrong.  
**Genre:** Crackfic!-ish

And here's my attempt at it. :-)

* * *

**Peachybutt Meets Long Schlong**  
**A Seifer x Squall Oneshot for Hyogen**

* * *

Squall Leonhart was not what one would call a 'typical' gay porn star.

For one thing, for a genre that had for decades been dominated by men who rather looked like testosterone-sprouting musclebound space marines, Squall Leonhart, who had been dubbed 'Peachybutt' by his loving and devoted fan base, had the slender built of a swimmer or a dancer as well as a delicate, almost pretty face, the likes of which one was more likely to see in a teen flick than on the DVD cover of a gay porn video. In fact, during his 'discovery', when he had been approached by Rinoa Heartilly, now his agent, and been handed the business card of an adult studio amidst flattering chatter and promises of easily-made money, Squall had only snorted, thrown the card into the next rubbish bin and done his best to get away from this woman as fast as he could. As her persistence had shown, though, not even Squall was entirely resistant to the lure of money and even _his_ pride had a prize.

So here he was now; Squall Leonhart, age 18, one of the hottest new porn stars in the business. He could remember the past few months as little more than a blur, really; too many different faces, names, positions, costumes, creepy manager dudes who flashed yellow teeth whenever they smiled and the glare of ever-changing wide headlights above semen-soaked sheets all bleeding into one quivering mass of memory. The most constant variable throughout the months had been the ever-persistent burning in his ass.

And, of course, the daily morning call from his agent.

"_Him_?" Squall groaned, sucking on his cigarette and furrowing his brows into a frown. "Again?"

He could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. "Yes, Squall. I've already told you, the two of you are -"

"- Popular, I know." He snorted and stubbed out his cigarette, blowing out the smoke. "I really can't figure out why."

"It seems like the two of you have hit the pulse of a certain niche group of viewers."

Squall rolled his eyes. "You've told me before."

She snorted. "Yet you keep asking." Her voice took on a playful tone. "What's wrong - you don't like _Long Schlong_?"

Squall stirred his cup of coffee. Black, black as the pit of Satan's soul - just the way Squall liked it. "You know very well, _manager_, that that guy is completely insufferable."

He heard her laugh. Was it just him, or did she enjoy this a bit more than she should? "Oh, Squall. He's not that bad - if he weren't gay, you know..."

"Oh God. Spare me."

She cleared her throat, but her voice carried her smile as she went on, "Just try to be professional about this. They were so happy with the sales of the last movie you shot with him that they're going to double your pay this time, so congratulations." She paused and he could visualize her narrowing her eyes. "So don't fuck this up."

Squall rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yeah, yeah. Talk to you later, then." Without waiting for her to reply, he snapped the cell phone shut and buried it in his pockets, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands.

Great. Another shot with Seifer Almasy, or Long Schlong as his fans had dubbed him. The guy who had asked him out on more than one occasion with those wriggly eyebrows of his and that million watt smirk. The guy who seemed to not be willing to take 'no' for an answer and who seemed to think that Squall was joking when he said he did not date, much less someone from work. As compatible as they were in bed, Squall had ample reason to want to avoid the guy to his best abilities, and yet the fan base seemed to be quite intent on pairing them up as often as they could.

He was still looking for the pieces of his soul he had compromised that one day, when he had googled for his name and run across a website dedicated to fan fiction written about him and Seifer in love. What had that godforsaken story been like? Oh yeah._ "I love you, Seifer," Squall said, running his hand through Seifer's hair. "I forgive you even for raping me! Make me feel better!"_

Shudder.

Squall made a face like he had just bitten into a lemon, got up and stalked into the bathroom to take a shower and style his hair. Seifer's penis wouldn't be the only thing that would be long today - the entire day stretched out in front of him like a wasteland, and Squall shut the bathroom door with a bit more force than was perhaps necessary.

* * *

"Oh look at that. If it isn't the world-renowned Peachybutt."

"I wouldn't say world-renowned, but thanks." He narrowed his eyes at the blond man in front of him and added acidly, "_Long Schlong_."

"Well, well, well - who pissed in your cereal?"

Squall removed his sunglasses with a swift gesture, then shook his brown bangs out of his face. Great, you couldn't even enjoy a cup of coffee before shoots now without being bothered by your overzealous coworkers now, could you? "What do you want?" Squall twirled the sunglasses in his fingers before he put them down on the table in front of him with a sigh. "The shoot's not for another half an hour."

Seifer's face split into a smirk before he let himself fall into the chair opposite of Squall's. People were bustling about, other porn actors as well as make-up artists and cameramen, but Seifer seemed to not see them; his eyes were focused on Squall's face alone. "Why, can't I come over and talk to my coworker a bit before a shoot? It's just common courtesy." He winked. "I'm going to fuck you in just a little while, you know."

Squall made a noise at the back of his throat and pointedly ignored the other man's eyes. He stirred his cup of coffee and the seconds ticked past.

Seifer shifted. "Are you going to ignore me until the shoot starts?"

Squall squinted into the whorls of his coffee. "Yes."

It had been a bit of a mistake, Squall knew even without having to raise his eyes to meet Seifer's. The tension between them rose and Squall could feel little needles pricking his face as he heard Seifer draw in his breath.

"Bastard."

Squall kept staring into his cup of coffee. "I just don't date coworkers."

Squall could_ feel _more than see him lean forward. Squall's nostrils wrinkled at the scent of his cologne, and his ears wanted to fold themselves at the low sound of his voice that seemed to hit just the right low tones to worm its way right into his body. "That's _stupid_, Squall."

Squall raised his eyes, dipping into the pools of green he found set amidst the other man's handsome face. "Why not?"

Squall's feet tapped against the floor. "I'm not that unprofessional, Almasy." If it hadn't been for the barest little tremble in his voice, his performance would have been impeccable. "You're a coworker. You fuck me for money. And you're_ gay-for-pay_. Or so the rumors say. I wouldn't be surprised if they were true."

A twinkle in his eyes. It wasn't the first time that Squall noticed that his eyes were not only green, but _whoa_, green. "Oh, really, Leonhart? Come on, I know that thing on your head is more than just an accessory: if that was truly gay-for-pay, would I ask you out?"

Squall shifted on his chair. "I don't know. I suppose. It doesn't even matter, though." Squall's right eye twitched, so he drew his eyes to the table. "Besides, I don't even _like_ you."

Squall slumped back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He could feel Seifer's eyes boring into him, probing for the catch that he knew had to be there somewhere. Squall wasn't going to give him the satisfaction, however, and at last, when the pressure of being stared at by Seifer's inquisitive eyes became too great, Squall shot up from his chair, swiped his sunglasses off the table and stalked off into the general direction of the dressing room, mumbling obscenities under his breath.

He could feel Seifer's eyes boring into his back until he rounded the first corner.

* * *

Working as a porn star, Squall had found out very early on in his career, was hard work. Pun completely intended.

Not only did he have to spend hours on end at the under the glare of the headlights, and not only had he been reduced to playing the role as a 'bottom' and thus felt like a beehive had been planted into his ass at all times of the day and night, no; he also had to put up with more than one idiotic director.

Irvine Kinneas, generous though he was, was pretty much the epitome of 'idiotic director'.

"Peachybutt!" He tipped off his cowboy hat, smirk pulling across his lips that for some reason never managed to look nearly as _Seifer's_. "So great to be working with you again! Are you ready for some action?"

Squall could practically _feel_ his brain cells cowering against the walls of his skull in fear.

He haughtily drew his chin to the side and crawled onto the bed. "Whatever, director." He frowned, touching his head. "Are the cat ears really necessary?" He let out a snort and rolled his eyes. "Just _who_ is into shit like that?" Squall was naked from head to toe, except for a pair of black and pink cat ears on his head, half-buried between strands of his shaggy hair. He reclined on the satin sheets of the bed, letting his fingertips trail over the bare skin of his stomach. He could see himself in the mirror on the ceiling and tilted his head a little as he looked at his naked body, from his hairless legs to his taut stomach, the muscles showing not because he was athletic but because his skinniness made him look fitter than he really was. When Squall let his hands skip along his skin, his mind was empty.

No, that wasn't true, not entirely. He was still sort of thinking about -

Soft pressure on the bed; Seifer had joined him and Squall's eyes slid to the side to take in the tanned blond who stretched out next to him.

Seifer propped his head up on his palm, trademark smirk on his face. "Hey."

Squall groaned and closed his eyes.

Seifer Almasy was a porn star who had been in the biz for much longer than Squall. While Squall had not performed with more than ten different people, Seifer's list of past coworkers had to number in the hundreds. It wasn't that Squall particularly minded - after all, what was he? _Jealous_? Hah - but it had intimidated him the first few times they had met. Soon, though, after Seifer had drilled him into the mattress the first couple of times and asked him out just as many, Squall had become to view the muscular blond as little more than a nuisance. Most of the time, anyway.

Before Seifer could launch into a conversation, the director's spoke up. "So, I trust the two of you are well rested and ready for some, uh, sexy times?" Irvine flashed them a grin along with a thumbs-up and Squall had to fight very hard to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, I'm sure you've read the script, but just to reiterate: we want some making out this time and..."

Squall shot up. "I don't kiss in porn."

Irvine scratched the back of his neck. "Yes, but -"

"You know I don't," Squall seethed. "It says so right in my contract! If you try to make me, I call my agent and -"

"Okay, okay, okay!" Irvine threw up his hands and shrugged. "_Okay_. Then Seifer, just do extended foreplay, kissing along his torso. Try to act like you're in love and shit."

Seifer was stroking Squall's torso. "What's this, porn for chicks?"

Irvine nodded. "Something like that. Anyway, after some of that, suck his cock, Squall. Then you, Seifer," he nodded to the blond man, "then you take him from behind and I'll give you the cue to change positions and stuff. Got it?"

Seifer smirked. "Got it."

Squall frowned. "Whatever."

Irvine seemed pleased enough. "Very well then. Aaand," he motioned to the cameramen, "_action_!"

As if he had been laying in wait for the director to say the magic word (which he probably had, Squall concluded), Seifer rolled himself on top of Squall and put one of his nipples in his mouth, letting his hands run up and down Squall's torso. Squall whimpered at the back of his throat and rolled his hips, feeling himself hardening already.

Upon noticing he had made such a wanton and decidedly feminine noise, Squall bit down on his lower lip, willing himself not to make any sound even as Seifer gripped his hips and rolled all of his weight on top of him. Then Squall remembered that he was supposed to act like he was enjoying this and relaxed, allowing himself to react to Seifer's touches.

The most important thing as a porn star, Squall had learned a few months into his new job, was, surprisingly, not being humongously endowed, or looking like the aforementioned space marine. No, of much more pressing importance was being able to control one's arousal to the point of being able to climax on command. Which, surprisingly, Squall had found out he was remarkably good at.

With Seifer, though, as much as Squall hated to admit it, it had always been quite a more difficult matter.

Seifer gripped him and smirked. Squall moaned lowly, raising his hips to meet the blond's hand.

As much as he liked to assure himself and everyone who cared to listen that he could not at all understand why him and Seifer had generated such a devoted following of fans, the truth of the matter was that Squall was very well aware of just why they had managed to appeal to a wide base of viewers.

It was with Seifer, and only Seifer, that none of Squall's little moans (_oh, Seifer's hands on his back and long the lines of his abdominal muscles_) and whimpers ( _oh, that tug on his hair had been a little harsh and now he was exposing his jugular and Seifer was placing lingering kisses just against the tremble of his heart beat_) or even the wanton little rolls of his hips (_it was not only Seifer's weight on top of him but also his scent, warm and masculine, of spices and the earth and all things forbidden and stirring_) or even the -

He was cut out of his mental reverie when the director signaled him to perform oral sex on Seifer and Squall got on his knees and crawled down along Seifer's body.

Whenever he re-watched his own porn videos with Seifer Almasy, Squall always blushed, and felt like hiding his head under the coach pillows along with the irrational urge to decapitate his TV set with his remote control. He had seen enough to know what he looked like during sex with Seifer, though, and thus had no hard time imagining what he had to look like now.

Pink cheeks, eyes glazed over with lust, even his neck and shoulders swollen and red. He didn't need to see himself to know that when he closed his mouth around Seifer's erection, he did so with the expression of a woman licking chocolate ice cream. It didn't matter that Seifer tasted far from ice cream and that in fact his taste was more salty, and the droplets of precum faintly bitter; it didn't matter because there was just _something_ about him that made it pleasurable to service him in this way.

Squall didn't know what it was - what he did know, though, was that he _didn't like it one single bit_.

Irvine gave them another signal - it was time for penetration. Squall tore his mouth off of Seifer's erection and then turned around on all fours. He kept his eyes on Seifer as he did so, glaring at the blond man over his shoulder. He was greeted by a brilliant smirk as usual. Squall had to swallow as he saw Seifer position himself behind him. Two cool, lubed fingers entered him and thrust into him, and Squall was thrown forward a little, moaning into the crook of his arms as shards of pleasure zigzagged through his body.

It was only when he opened his eyes again and met Seifer's brilliant gaze over his shoulder that something in his stomach stirred. Squall's muscles tensed and he readied his body for penetration, his hands digging into the sheets of the bed. Even before Seifer made his jab forward, though, Squall could see that something was different.

They had worked together on four different occasions by now, and each time had ended with Squall being unable to walk properly for the weekend that followed. Out of the many costars he had worked with, Seifer had definitely been the one who had displayed the most... animalistic behaviors.

Even so, though, Seifer had always entered him gently before, giving him ample time to adjust to his size. This time, though, he could see it in his face; something was different, his eyebrows drawn together, a darkness brewing behind his eyes, something... -

Was he... _angry_?!

Their eyes melted together, their hips a few inches apart. Seifer was staring at Squall, loose smirk on his face, but a certain hardness on his usually so relaxed face; Squall was staring back with mixed feelings, witnessing the changes on his expression with rising interest. Squall could only guess that the repeated rejections he had hurled Seifer's way had not gone unnoticed for once, and that the blond was finally unwilling to make good face to Squall's apparent lack of both interest and passion. Most disturbing of all was that, while Squall, on all accounts, really should have been worried about being taken by Seifer in what promised to be a rather more violent manner, all he could feel was a shower much like anticipation burning down his spine.

Seifer, with one last smirk into Squall's direction, thrust his hips forward. It happened fast, so fast that Squall barely had time to register what had happened before the scream rung through the ear and drilled itself into his ears.

The pain was as brilliant as it was sharp and Squall slumped forward with a groan, his face buried in the sheets that smelled of masculine sweat. Burning pains in his lower body was, of course, a condition that came very much with the field and Squall had long since learned to make peace with, but this time, it was different, it was -

It wasn't his _ass_ that hurt?!

And then, of course, Seifer screamed in a way Squall had never heard anyone scream before and all hell broke loose.

"AH! Ah, shit!"

All around him, noises erupted. Chairs screeched as the cameramen jumped up, people shouted and sheets rustled; all of this, however, was drowned out by Seifer's cursing. Squall's pain by now had dulled enough for him to prop himself up on his elbows and throw a look back - to be presented by the sight of onedisheveled Seifer looking down at his penis like one would look at a broken kitten.

When Squall's eyes had run down along Seifer's body enough to see it, only then did Squall see just how fitting the 'broken kitten' metaphor really had been.

It was bent to the left.

Squall gaped at it, not understanding what he was seeing. Just what had happened? The people all around him hurried to Seifer, inspecting him with expressions of pure mourning on their face and he could hear Irvine say, "Oh no, not another one," and then, just then, everything clicked into place.

Seifer had thrust against his perineum, apparently. And, quite obviously, broken his dick in the process.

Broken his dick.

Broken. His. Dick.

Amusement tickled along Squall's abdominal walls and before he could stop himself, the first chuckles had already squeezed themselves out of his throat.

Seifer, although still nursing his broken dick and in the middle of being dragged away by the crew, noticed. "What the fuck are you laughing about?"

A burst of chuckles. "You broke your..." _Snort_. "Dick. You fucking broke your..." _Gasp_. "_Dick_!"

For a moment, Seifer looked at him as though he'd lost his mind.

"You broke your dick, Seifer!" Squall could finally no longer hold it; laughter spilled freely from his mouth and he sat up, holding his stomach. He only just barely managed not to point at Seifer and laugh like a mean kid at the playground - but still, Seifer paled in anger.

"You fucking asshole!" Seifer bellowed, attempting to tackle Squall. He was held back by two cameramen, however, and resorted to just glaring at Squall as though attempting to burn a neat hole right through his skull. "You bastard!"

"You broke your dick!" Squall repeated, unable to contain his laughter. "This is... this is just -"

Seifer's eyes twitched. "STOP LAUGHING ALREADY, I MAKE MONEY WITH THAT THING!"

"Please, Mr. Long Schlong," one of the cameramen interjected, wrestling to contain Seifer. "This isn't the place, you must -"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU DORK, THIS LITTLE -"

"Broke your dick!" Squall interjected happily.

"YOU ARE SUCH A GODDAMN, I SWEAR I'M GONNA -"

"We need to get you to a hospital right now. Come on, let's -"

_Giggle. Snort_. "It's purple!"

" - FUCKING KILL YOU AND -"

"- go to the hospital and -"

Squall buried his face in his hands. "Broken and... and -"

" - DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS? THIS IS MY PRINCIPAL MONEY RESOURCE! MY TERRITORY, MY -"

"Territory!" Squall repeated.

Seifer's eyes flashed. " I SWEAR I'M GONNA -"

"WILL YOU TWO KIDS SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONE SECOND SO WE CAN GET HIM TO THE HOSPITAL?" That was Irvine, and he looked serious enough for both Seifer and Squall to stop for a moment. Throwing threatening glares across the room, he exchanged a few words with Seifer, whose anger quickly drained away to reveal a very pained expression. Squall, meanwhile, was still busy trying not to rip open his stomach with the force of his giggles.

A few more words were exchanged and soon after, Seifer was dragged away from the bed. A cameraman pressed some ice against Seifer's swollen and by now quite purple cock, and Irvine quickly dialled a number and shouted into the phone something about an 'emergency'. All the while, Seifer's eyes were on none other than Squall, boring into him as though trying to scoop out his insides.

A few minutes, a lot of screaming, a lot of excited chattering, feet shuffling and general hysteria later, Seifer had left the room supported by two of the crew members, leaving Squall alone with one other cameraman, who began to stash away the cameras with the face of someone who had just seen his entire family die in a house fire etched into his features.

Once the room had fallen silent, Squall managed to calm down and dried his eyes, which had started to water during his laughter attacks. He blinked away the tears and looked at the cameraman in front of him, who pointedly ignored him.

That was, until he said, in a very calm and serious voice, "That wasn't very nice of you, you know. Mr. Peachybutt."

Squall looked up. "Hm? What?"

The guy shrugged, dismounting one of the large cameras. "About you laughing I mean. He broke his penis, man." At that, he made a pained face, then shuddered as if he had just been thinking of maggot-filled wounds. "That's no joke, man."

Squall shrugged. "I thought it was funny. I mean, he's always so full of himself and -"

The guy made an exasperated nose and dropped his hands, fixing Squall with a glare. "You do know what this means, right?"

Squall opened his mouth to say something, found he had nothing to say and closed it again with an audible '_plop_'.

"It means he's gonna need surgery. It means he may never be able to perform again. It may mean his _career_ is over - all because he rammed his dick against your... your..."

"My perineum," Squall supplied.

"Right. Your perineum." The guy shook his head. "I don't think you should have laughed like this."

Squall shifted on the bed. "Well, it was funny." Fuck, it _had_ been funny! As far as Squall was concerned, Seifer had his head so far up his own ass he practically tickled his own tonsils - hadn't divine justice been done by having him commit such a mistake?

Well, but perhaps if it ended his own career. If - if maybe they could never - never have sex again.

Well, it wasn't Squall's problem now, was it? It hadn't even been his fault - it had all been _his_ fault, his, his, his, for being so overzealous and angry and not _aiming incorrectly_, what an idiot.  
_  
But then Squall, why had been angry to begin with, huh?_

Squall made a face as he got up from the bed and got dressed. When he ran his fingers through his hair, he noticed the cat ears that he had completely forgotten about during the shoot and ripped them off of his head. They fell against the floor with a muffled sound, shuddered a few times against it and then became completely still. Squall paid them no mind as he stalked out of the room and once in front of the building, he fumbled for his cigarettes.

He blamed the weather on the fact that his fingers were shaking when they closed around the lighter.

* * *

Squall blinked at the door.

The door blinked back.

Squall shook his head to himself and blinked again.

The door blinked back.

_Goddammit._

Squall closed his eyes, a low groan escaping his throat. His hand around the bouquet of flowers shook.

Upon coming home to his apartment and stomping circles around his dinner table, he had eventually taken the time to google 'penile fracture'. He'd read the information he'd found there with a frown that had eventually morphed into an expression of horror. Standing in front of the hospital door, upon which the numbers '183' were written in silver letters, he couldn't remember why he had ever thought it all that funny.

Well, it was easy to piece together just why it had amused him so: the animosity between them had been thick as a humid summer, and every glance between them had been a threat only just barely disguised by forced apathy (on Squall's part) and arrogance (on Seifer's). Seeing him in pain resulting from an action the blond had planned on using to assert his superiority over Squall had understandably been amusing, but -

He shook his head to himself, blowing up into his bangs. They fluttered and then settled back against his forehead, dipping into his vision. _Whatever_, he thought to himself. _Just bring in the bouquet and leave_.

Heart beating at the back of his throat, he raised his knuckles and knocked, then, upon not hearing a verbal reply from the other end of the door, slowly pushed down the handle and nudged the door open. The smell of flowers rushed into his nostrils the moment he entered, and a part of him screamed at him to turn around on his heels right then and there, because obviously Seifer didn't need another flower bouquet to add to his collection - when Seifer's voice cut through his thoughts and made him freeze.

"For God's sake. Come in or leave, but don't keep standing there in the doorway!"

Squall schooled his face into his usual mask of apathy, straightened his shoulders and pushed the door ajar.

When their eyes met across the room, neither said anything for a few seconds. Seifer was dressed in a white hospital gown, and looked about as distressed as Squall felt. He was encircled by a sea of flowers that had all been placed on several tables all around his bed. Squall wondered whether most of them were from fans, or whether Seifer really had that many friends and family members. While thinking this, he also realized that he had never once consciously thought that Seifer Almasy had to have friends and family, yes, a _life_, outside of the porn business.

But why was he thinking this now? Not like it mattered.

He drew his eyes to the floor and closed the door behind him. Carefully avoiding Seifer's eyes, he went over to one of the tables that still seemed to have some spare space and placed his flowers on it, picking away at the pink blooms with his back so straight his spine throbbed in a dull ache.

Silence settled over the scene, punctuated only by their breathing. Just when Squall was about to shrug and walk back out, Seifer spoke. His voice was so harsh that Squall very nearly cut himself on the thorns of one of the rose bouquets. "Well, well, look who's here."

Squall kept his eyes on the wall and said nothing. He reached for one of the roses someone else had brought Seifer.

He could hear Seifer snort. "After how well you treated me, I didn't think you'd come."

Squall dug his fingers into one of the roses, the satiny flower opening up to him and enveloping his finger in its red embrace. "You know it wasn't my fault." He paused. "You're all right then, aren't you?"

"You mean apart from the fact that I may never be able to perform again? Just fine."

Squall tilted his head, but still wouldn't look at Seifer. "The doctor told me you'd most likely be fine in a little while. I don't think it means your career is over."

The bed sheets rustled. "Come here." His voice held no warmth, but they also held no threat; he said it in a way one would ask a child to come over.

Squall's finger slid deeper into the rose. "No, thanks."

"Goddammit ,Squall, you come all this way here, even bring me flowers, and then you won't come over and talk to me?"

Squall withdrew his finger, look of concentration on his features. Trying to come up with reasons to reject Seifer but not able to think of any, he turned around and walked over to Seifer's bed, sitting down on a chair next to him, hunching his back and folding his hands between his knees.

Again, there was silence. Squall was just about to relax, just about to decide that nothing was going to happen - when Seifer's hand suddenly shot toward him, caught him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down toward him.

Squall squeaked - yes, _squeaked_ - and his hands flailed as Seifer's brilliant green eyes shot up toward him. Squall closed his own eyes and clenched his lips together, some inane part of him expecting Seifer to kiss him. The kiss never came - instead a hiss bored itself into Squall's ears, sharp enough to make him wince. "Why did you come here?"

Squall slitted open one eye, then the other. Seifer was only a few inches away, his breath washing over Squall's face. It smelled pleasant, of mouthwash and toothpaste; what was less pleasant, however, was the way his eyes glared at him. Squall was usually the one who was thought of by fans to have 'stormy' eyes, but for the first time, but he'd never been able to understand quite what they were referring to. Looking into Seifer's eyes now, though, he understood what it meant to have a storm brewing in one's eyes.

It was then that Squall finally remembered to answer. And as it always was with Squall Leonhart, when he felt cornered, he switched into asshole mode. "Why? Can't I come and check up on a coworker?"

Seifer drew his eyebrows together, anger sweeping over his face - and Squall expected him to bark at him, to hit him, even, but Seifer surprised him by releasing his hold on his collar and turning away from him with a snort. "Of course. You'd never actually admit to anything else, would you?" He gave him a look that burned all the way down to Squall's bones. "I'm starting to believe you when you say that you really _do_ hate me."

Squall was silent. They looked into each other's eyes and Squall sat down on the chair again with a sigh. "It..." Squall licked his lips. "It would be... I wouldn't like it, you know. If you were seriously hurt. If you could never have sex again." He paused and looked away as Seifer stared at him with raised eyebrows. His voice lowered until it was almost a whisper. "It wasn't nice of me to laugh."

Both of them held their breaths for a while. Squall fiddled with his hands and Seifer stared at him, his eyes the green rain on Squall's parade.

When Squall went on, it was so quiet that, at first, Squall thought that Seifer hadn't heard. "I don't actually hate you."

Seifer said nothing for a long while. When he did, his voice sounded as though it was in the middle of deciding whether it wanted to be amused or angered. "You sure did a convincing job at pretending that you did. Congratulations."

Squall shrugged, then leaped from his seat. His work here was done. He nodded to Seifer and turned to leave, when he felt a hand on his wrist. He turned around and felt something stir in his stomach at the sight of Seifer's trademark smirk back on his face. "I accept your apology." His smirk grew. "On one condition."

Squall rolled his eyes. "Oh, what is it, I wonder."

Whenever Squall had thought about how their first kiss would be, he had always expected it to be passionate. Wild. For Seifer to be unable to stand the tension any longer and just crush him into his arms, attack his mouth with his lips, to open his jaw border-line violently and ravish his mouth.

As it happened, their first kiss was very unlike any of these things. Seifer raised from the bed, his face coming closer to Squall's, who stared at him out of unimpressed eyes, his facial features relaxed. Only when Seifer pressed his lips against Squall's did Squall notice what was going on, but by the time he had the presence of mind to make a pained little noise at the back of his throat and for his hands to attempt to push the blond away, Seifer had already drawn his head back and smiled at him.

Squall stared back at him. The pressure against his lips had been light, loving almost, and his lips were still buzzing. He had never expected Seifer to be such a gentle kisser, had never expected this to happen. Now that it had, Squall had no idea how he was supposed to feel about it.

Seifer's breath was a gentle breeze on his face as he said, "Go out with me, then, Squall. Finally forget about your stupid inhibitions. Give me a chance to prove to you that I'm not that bad. Don't blow me off for stupid reasons you yourself don't even believe in." His hands found Squall's arms and encircled them, softly squeezing his upper arms. "Go out with me."

Squall opened his mouth to say no, then caught sight of Seifer's eyes and closed his mouth again. He struggled against Seifer's hands and pried them off of his arms, sitting up straight after he had been released. He ran a nervous han throughout his hair, inwardly cursed himself, checked his watch and looked back over at the flowers.

He did not, however, refuse.

And that was all the answer Seifer needed.

Seifer smirked.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Haha... ha...

Comments are loved. ^^

'Till next time~!


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